


let us always

by dinosaur



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, OT5, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaur/pseuds/dinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hate you,” Zayn says, just to make sure they’re on the same page.</p>
<p>Harry nods, frowning in mock-seriousness, “I hate you, too,” and then leans forward to kiss the corner of Zayn’s mouth. Zayn breathes in Harry’s strawberry shampoo, stronger than ever and kisses back lopsided, feeling their upper lips catch dry, just for a second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let us always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thezaynlife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezaynlife/gifts).



> For the prompt: "Met at summer camp, all of 1D in same cabin."  
> Hope this fits the ticket, hon!
> 
> Thanks for the beta and the support A, all the butt kicking S, and for people buying me take out while I withered away trying to get this out, lmao.
> 
> Title from Fifteen by Goldroom ft. Chela.  
> Also, like assume everyone here is v definitely above age of consent and well versed and stuff pls.

 

There’s something tickling his nose. Zayn brushes at it, floppy with sleep and too warm to deal with anything. The thing moves, brushes against his cheek purposefully. Zayn brushes at it again. He’s not opening his eyes and this thing can’t convince him to.

The thing shakes its way over Zayn’s eye, just as a low voice whispers, “Baby.”

Ugh. Zayn swats at it. The thing is Harry.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Harry sing-songs.  

Zayn mumbles some approximation of fuck off, rolling his head out of Harry’s annoying reach and into the soft shelter of the pillow. It’s the perfect degree of firm, a wonderful hugging support that smells like Harry’s shampoo, but without the prickles of Harry’s hair. He could marry this pillow. They would have a spring wedding. Daisies. Purple accents. Zayn mumbles proposals happily into the pillow.

There’s a morning rasp of a giggle behind him.

Zayn frowns. Harry is supposed to be gone. Zayn’s sure he told Harry to fuck off. He flops a hand back over his shoulder, meets skin with a satisfying slap. Harry yelps and Zayn snuggles down into his fiancé. Good.

A weight stretches out beside him and Zayn has to struggle to not roll into it. Half, it’s these beds are weak and awful as all camp beds are, but half is just Harry and Zayn’s inability to not curl into zir. He sighs at himself.

He rolls over and cracks his eyes open to find Harry smiling at him, unrepentant. Zir hair is curled beyond curls, a soft bush just barely held back by a headscarf.

“I hate you,” Zayn says, just to make sure they’re on the same page.

Harry nods, frowning in mock-seriousness, “I hate you, too,” and then leans forward to kiss the corner of Zayn’s mouth. Zayn breathes in Harry’s strawberry shampoo, stronger than ever and kisses back lopsided, feeling their upper lips catch dry, just for a second. Ze pulls back and settles on the second pillow, hair dropping down everywhere.

“Morning,” ze says, so soft and warm Zayn can’t help reaching out to loop a curl around his finger.

“Mornin’.”

Harry closes zir eyes for a second, ducks to press zir lips to Zayn’s wrist. Harry lingers for a long moment, not like a kiss, but like ze’s feeling his heartbeat out, sensitive to the texture of his skin and the heat of his body. Zayn’s pulse thrums.

“I dun wanna go to the caf’,” he complains, quiet.

Harry rubs gently at Zayn’s wrist bone with zir lips, eyes still closed. “Don’t hafta. Niall bribed the cooks. Got eggie-bread and wheaties and some sausages. Proper brekkie on the blankets.”

“Bribed?” Zayn reshuffles their legs a bit, tucks an ankle in between Harry’s, practiced.

Harry hums. “Complimented them till they blushed like rose petals and shoved food at him.”

“Ah. Been giving lessons?” Zayn smiles, against his will.

Harry dimples and opens zir eyes like ze’s sensing Zayn’s smile, looking up at Zayn like victory made loving and smooth. “Yes. He’s really come along well. Star pupil.”

“Mm, tell him that. _He’ll_ blush like a rose petal,” Zayn says, laughter at the edges of his voice.

“Will do,” Harry says, tipping up to rub zir chin along Zayn’s. He resists the urge to shiver. If Harry’s skin always looks 10 degrees of angel soft, then it’s nothing to how it feels on his morning stubble. He nuzzles back a bit and can feel the edges of Harry’s grin. “Soon as you’re out there with us.”

Zayn sighs and bites at Harry’s jaw.

“Fine,” he concedes, and pinches at zir hip.

Harry giggles, kicking out enough to jostle them on the bed and then detangles to roll out. The door slams open and shut a beat later. There’s an echo of a shout.

Zayn follows at a more sedate pace, whispering a goodbye to his beloved pillow.

The cabin floor is a worn cool plank under his feet as he stumble-skirts the edge of the triple bed contraption that’s Liam, Louis and Niall’s. The covers are folded down, all hotel corners. Liam’s batman pillow fluffed up precisely next to Louis’ ironman one. Zayn glances back at his and Harry’s mess of comforters and smiles. It’ll last for a bit till Niall comes in to tidy up. He snags a purple jumper off the back of the couch, probably Liam’s from the shoulders, and tugs it on, pushing at the door.

He pauses, looking down at the doorknob. Hm. _Shoes_.

He doubles back to find a pair of supras by the end table, probably Niall’s. Oh well, they’re all friendly. Zayn tugs them on without bothering with the laces, meanders back to the door. Voices crowd through the opening immediately.

“No, I said a headstand, not a faceplant. Have you no dignity, Niall?”

“No.”

There's a burst of laughter that has Zayn joining in.

The area outside the cabin is meadowy, soft patches of grass and random log benches. They’ve set up layers of blankets in one big sea with floating plates of food everywhere. With the sun flaring over the edges of the trees surrounding camp, it’s picturesque, even with the rise and fall of other campers’ voices from around them.

Zayn trips over to where Harry is, back to the cabin as ze watches Louis and Liam try and help Niall do a headstand without any success whatsoever. He presses himself to zir back, feeling Harry relax back after a second.

“Hey,” Zayn says, tucking his chin over Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Harry mumbles around a bit of crust.

They watch for a bit, swaying back and forth a bit like Harry can’t help it. Liam and Louis are having a whisper argument. Something to do with angles and cheeks. Zayn doesn’t wanna know.

“So, is this what you woke me up for?” Zayn asks eventually, because the wheaties look really good and Niall looks so red in the face he’s gone clear past rose and onto actual blood.

“Yes,” Harry says, but then clears zir throat and shouts, “The Great Zayn of O has arrived! The feast may begin!”

“Oh thank god,” Niall says, wrestling free and flopping down onto the ground. “Breakfast, lads!”

They ignore Liam and Louis staying still, bodies practically curving together, arguing heated. Could be anything from the weather forecast to their plans to take over the world. Zayn’s not bothered. He takes the corner by the biggest bowl of wheaties and digs in. Harry stretches out beside him, another L of crust in zir mouth.

Niall’s got a plate of four layers of sausages in his lap. It’s impressive, even for him. Zayn wonders for a second how late it actually is.

Niall points his fork at Zayn like he’s hearing the thought. “Next time, we’re not waiting, bub.”

“Yes, Niall,” Zayn appeases, maybe a tad oversweet if the way Niall glares at him afterwards is anything to go by.

Louis finally breaks away from Liam with a loud tsk. Liam follows, rolling his eyes. Him and Niall are going full on for the vest casual look. It’s very lovely in the sunlight.

“I can’t believe you would start while someone wasn’t here. The lack of manners on the three of you, honestly,” Louis says, crumbling a bit of bread on Niall’s arms.

“Ah, c’mon, Lou.” Niall brushes at his arms, letting go of the sausage plate for the first time. Louis eyes it like that was his plan all along and then sneaks a look over to Zayn.

Zayn raises his eyebrows, daring him. Louis grins at him. He steals one of Niall’s sausages and tosses it at Zayn’s head. It’s a sad throw. Zayn scoffs and leans back and it hits Harry in the arm.

“Hey!” Harry and Niall chorus.

It disintegrates into their usual breakfast fighting fair. Zayn manages to protect the bowl of wheaties though, which is really the only thing that matters. Niall and Harry manage to get margarine all down the side of Louis’ face

At some point the horn for First Activities blows. Zayn only really notices because Liam elbows him a few times. It only does a bit to pull back the rising curtain of sleepiness Zayn’s being hit with. It’s not that Zayn doesn’t care about doing stuff in the morning, it’s just sleep is the worst invention ever and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work like it’s supposed to.

He shrugs at Liam, who crinkles in response. Zayn smiles back and lets his hand play along Liam’s neck for a bit. Maybe he can soak up some of Liam’s morning enthusiasm.

The camp around them is burgeoning steadily louder, no matter that they’re at the far end of it. Someone with purple hair walks by with a Tower of Pisa made of bagels. Zayn resists the urge to applaud. It takes restraint to build with your breakfast.

“Shower time!” Louis shouts, right beside Zayn’s ear.

“Fuck, Lou,” Zayn laughs and shoves at Louis. He just laughs back, jumping out of the way, narrowly missing Liam’s hand and a forgotten plate. Liam takes his turn shoving at Louis then and they tug at each other, garbling half-words and covering each other with food fight remains.

Harry and Niall are gathering plates and the very few leftovers. As Harry leans over Zayn to get the plate between him and the pile of liamlouis, he drops a hand onto zir back. He traces over the lines of zir spine. Harry glances over at him and draws back with plate slowly, letting Zayn’s hand ride up zir plaid button-down. Zayn’s breath catches a bit.

“Separate showers, you two,” Niall cuts in sharply, pointing fingers in between Zayn and Harry.

Harry starts laughing.

Zayn leans forward onto zir, feeling the shakes of laughter all the way into his bones. “You following your own orders, Niall?”

“Three people wouldn’t fit in the shower stall,” Niall says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, well. Good to know you’ve thought out mechanics.” Zayn teases the edge of Harry’s joggers with a finger, just to feel the shiver zir gives in response.

Niall flushes a bit and then huffs. “Move out, soldiers,” he grumbles, aiming a kick into Liam’s side as he heads in the direction of the showers. “You’re on dish return, Liam.”

“Okay,” Liam gasps in between giggles, Louis’ hands pressed into his ribs.

Zayn doesn’t comment about the sickeningly fond look Niall throws back at the two of them. He just thinks _Same_ , looking down at Harry draped across his lap. He laces his fingers in the curls falling over his knee and pulls them back gently. Harry flops over a bit and smiles up at him. Zayn pulls again, firmly, and ze sighs and kisses at his thigh.

His heart makes a strange movement in his chest.

“Wash time, you dirty thing,” Zayn says.

Harry laughs again and struggles to zir feet, Zayn’s hands at zir hips for balance.

They leave Liam and Louis finally gathering the plate piles and cut back into the cabin for their shower bags. Harry grabs Zayn’s hand as amble over to the shower house, swinging them back and forth. A somewhat small building a bit away, the house always smells half-heartedly like wet wood and bleach. It’s not bad today, though. The sun’s out in full force now and it saps some of the smell’s power.

They don’t take a shower together, partly because it’s rotation basis, one shower clears, one person goes in, but partly because Harry’s a wimp and can’t take anything above lukewarm. Zayn digs his chin into zir shoulder briefly before cutting into the available stall. Harry squawks behind him. Zayn giggles.

He takes his time showering. Everyone else’ll end up back in here later after being in the lake. Fat chance of that for him, though. The steam curls soft and steady around his feet before wandering out the high window. He watches it mesh with the white of the clouds.

There’s a slap to the stall door, and a peak of brown over the edge. “T-minus 10 to free-for-all, Zayno. Me and Nialler on the lake. Harry and Liam, the land enemies.”

Zayn slaps back, “Kay, bro.”

Louis wanders off, singing something about rum. Zayn grins stupidly at the shower tile for a minute before he turns off the head. He ignores the goosebumps on his arms as he dries off. Relinquishing the stall to someone with a sea of freckles and a ginormous bottle of axe, Zayn shakes his hair into something resembling more of a style than a mop. It’ll dry fine for a free-for-all, anyway.

He runs into Liam almost immediately.

“Whoa,” Zayn says, balancing his hands on Liam’s shoulders. “You okay?”

“Hi, Zayn,” Liam says, distracted, barely shooting him a smile before glancing around nervously.

Zayn bites his lip against a grin. “Louis?”

“I don’t even know the rules!” Liam tenses a bit under Zayn’s hands. He’d be more worried if it wasn’t for the happy corners of Liam’s eyes and the loaded waterblaster in his hand.

“Aww, babes.” Zayn coos, looking around for the blaster supply. “S’no rules, really. Just, yunno, win.”

“Hm.” Liam hums and then turns around and pulls the trigger on Zayn.

Zayn gasps, looking down at his drenched vest, which may actually be Louis’. The cold water drips onto his shorts as he watches. He looks up to find Liam trying and failing to hold in giggles, his cheeks rounded with delight. “Oh, you’re dead,” Zayn breathes.

Liam cackles and takes off around a score of art campers.

In the distance, there’s the bright sound of Louis and Niall arguing again over the giant hamster balls while Harry wanders around with watermelon, of all things, in zir hands. Zayn shakes his head and heads off to find a waterblaster.

The game begins.

He loses track of time happily, flitting in between pushing Louis in the balls, nailing Liam with the water blaster and messing up Harry’s fruit throwing. If he spends more time messing with Harry than all the rest put together, who’s counting. Harry goes all sparkly at the edges, dimples coming out to play. When Harry presses close, it feels like their sides align easy like magnets. So really, it’s not Zayn’s fault they end up curled on one of the actual benches by the dock.

“All’s fair in love and water, Payno,” Niall’s shouting as he rolls in Liam’s direction, complaining as he’s crowded up against the giant mangrove. Niall’s got to be screaming really loud, since it comes through the plastic muffled but still pretty clear. Zayn claps appropriately, seeing Louis do the same from the corner of his eyes.

Liam shouts something back and then ducks under water to kick away. Niall spins and wobbles after him. Louis toddles along a second later, complete with dramatic kicks to the ball walls.

Zayn hides a giggle in Harry’s shoulder and lets Harry try and tuck him even closer. The moment drifts on around them, sun warmed and complete, with the distant sound of splashing, and the even more distant sounds of other campers celebrating something.

“Should do some smores later,” Harry murmurs against Zayn’s ear, voice gone slow and low.

“Mm,” Zayn agrees. “Tree-lake?”

“Yesss,” Harry hisses, tickling. Zayn huffs a laugh and nudges at Harry’s arm with his nose.

They stay like that, legs wrapped up in a way that’s gonna be real uncomfortable when they get up, and heads pressed together, lips never far apart. Zayn plays with Harry’s hands, loving the sturdy lines, the strong, somehow silly fingers. Harry hums random lines from 80s one-hit-wonders and Zayn pretends he doesn’t sing along with as many as he does.

“Haha,” Harry says at one point.

“Hm?”

“Liam waited till Niall got out of the ball. Ace tackle technique. Good tickle-trick-shot. Ohh and 10 for Niall for good recovery involving wet willies,” Harry says, in an officiator voice.

Zayn presses an open mouthed laugh into Harry’s shoulder.

“Oi! We playing?” Louis says, from right beside them.

Zayn opens his eyes and twists a bit to see Louis, splotchy damp spots on his tee and barefoot on the sand in front of the dock. At the end of the wood, a counselor is helping another camper into the hamster ball. “Playing what?”

“They’re doing a game of ‘European dodgeball,’” Louis says, air quoting with his fingers while he sticks out his tongue.

Harry makes a sound like _American counselors_.

Zayn grins, resettles a bit more comfortably against Harry. “I’unno. Are we, Lou?”

Louis makes a smacking sound. “No, we are not. We’ve got a football and a secret empty field by a secret tree-lake and we’re going to play a round of real footie.”

Zayn groans. Harry kisses his temple, whispering “Sokay, we can always just play along and then, when Lou gets caught up –“ Harry nibbles at the tip of Zayn’s ear. He smirks over at Louis, whose eyes narrow suspiciously.

“They’ll be no funny business unless I deem it funny,” Louis says, putting his hands on his hips to exaggerate the moment.

Zayn plays along, “Oh, of course. So you wanna watch, then?”

Louis looks at the two of them considering for a second, dropping his hands a bit seriously. Harry makes a soft sound next to him. Before Louis can respond, Liam shuffles on up, with Niall on his back.

“What’re we doing next!” Liam laughs. Then, he looks between the three of them like he can trace the tension with his eyes, “Wait, what were you all talking about?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, cheerful, moving closer, “Just a spot of exhibitionism.” He pats Liam’s tummy as he passes by. “Footie! Field! Now!”

Liam raises an eyebrow back at Zayn and Harry, goggling a bit. Zayn shrugs while Harry winks. Niall wraps his arms tighter around Liam’s neck and laughs. More people are crowding around the lake, people already soaked from watergun fights and covered in paint from crafts. As if on cue, the horn for Second Activities sounds.

Zayn detangles from Harry reluctantly, his knees protesting. Groaning and twisting like the same thing is happening with zir back, Harry leans into Zayn. It throws his wobbly knees off balance and only Liam’s timely hand prevents all of them from biting the dirt.

“Oops?” Harry asks, still leaning against Zayn.

Liam rolls his eyes and hitches Niall up higher. His head flops a little against Liam’s shoulder, his eyes closed. Craning a look down at him, Liam makes a soft pft sound. He nuzzles his nose against Niall’s temple and Niall grumbles a bit, tightening his hold momentarily.

Zayn finally gets both himself and Harry settled upright on the ground, and starts pulling zir back towards the cabins. Liam follows along, walking carefully in between campers and uneven grass mounds.

About half way back, they lose Harry to a group of campers wearing Chelsea boots, when they call zir name. Harry perks up and drops a kiss to Zayn cheek. Zayn gestures to his wrist and Harry winks back a gotcha before being absorbed into the group.

“Amazing,” Liam murmurs beside him.

“I know. They’re all strange fashion-less fashionistas,” Zayn says. He looks down at Niall still looking conked out on Liam’s admittedly nice-for-napping shoulder. “He okay?”

Liam smiles in that small way he does when he’s proud of something but also overwhelmed by how fond he is of it. “Yeah. Just needs lunch, probably.”

_Four layers of sausages later_ , Zayn thinks, shaking his head. “Alright. Y’all wanna get the gear and I can go grab lunch, then?” Louis’ll have grabbed the football and other playing gear, probably some water, but going to the field usually means an extended stay out and about. They’ll need their trusty blankets and things.

Liam grins at him and makes like he’d offer a fist to bump if he wasn’t holding a petulant Irishman. Zayn laughs and kisses his head instead, running his fingers briefly through Niall’s hair because it’s always soft and he can.

He turns right and heads across camp, cutting around the art barn and finding Harry and The Host of Others crowded against the back wall. Zayn rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother collecting zir.

Harry’s telling a story as he passes by, something complex and involving a petrol station mishap. Probably a bucket of lies with a few tadpoles of truth. Harry likes a good audience, puts on a good show. Zayn gropes zir politely as he passes, a gentle bum pat. There’s a bit of laughter in Harry’s voice as ze continues.

The cafeteria is just starting on lunch when he gets there. He doesn’t know all their names, but he does know Niall’s and how to pull Harry’s doe eyes out when needed. They croon. He escapes with a basket of taco fixings and some fish and chips. Knowing the lads and Harry, it’s best to be prepared.

He does a little spy crawl along the caf wall headed back to camp, giving a fist pump when he reaches the edge of the building. He turns at the corner and finds Harry leaning against the wall with a ridiculous expression on zir face.

Zayn freezes.

“You’re so weird,” Harry sings at him.

Zayn relaxes into a shrug. Nothing new, there. He chomps at Harry as he walks by, back in the direction of the field. He moves the basket to his left hand zir tries to dig into it.

“Pleeease, Zayn. I’m hungry.”

“Shouldn’t’ve just had toast for breakfast, hm?” Zayn tsks, catching one of Harry’s wandering hands.

Harry grumbles something Zayn doesn’t catch and keeps it up long enough as they walk that Zayn starts humming They cut through the back side cabins and pick their way among the tree coverage before Harry drops the act and starts looking excited. Zayn keeps up the humming though. The more Drake he gets into, the more Harry’s eyebrows threaten to twitch off zir face.

By the time they get to the field, with no tripping, which may be a first for Harry and really does lend credence to Zayn’s motivational tools being the best, Harry’s close to covering zir ears in protest. Ze launches zirself across the field as soon as the last trees clear, landing with a hard thump on top of Niall.

“Ow! Harry,” Niall draws out, whinging, “Ge’off me.”

Harry ducks down and Zayn stops for a second to admire the sight. There’s a raspberry sound and Niall shouts in laughter. “Nooo,” he whines pathetically, in between giggles as Harry starts in on his sides.

Zayn looks around to find the home base log where Liam and Louis have stuck all the rest of their stuff. It’s just a bit away, directly across from where the football is. Louis’ already got all the corners and goal posts marked with cones. He sighs as he drops the basket next to the blanket piles.

From behind him there’s a shout of “Food!” and a few strangled sounds of Niall wrestling free of Harry. He pops up around Zayn’s shoulder. “Zayno, my savior, thank you.”

“Anytime, bro,” Zayn says, moving aside.

Harry flops over on the ground next to Niall and pouts.

Zayn drops a kiss onto zir head as he goes to get Louis and Liam. Harry smiles even as ze sighs.

Liam isn’t anywhere around, but Louis’ doing stretches over by the far goal. Zayn walks over and stops to admire the pull of Louis’ thigh muscles.

“Looking good,” Zayn says.

“That’s because I am an elite professional,” Louis says back, nose in the air. There’s a thread of wistfulness in there though, so Zayn doesn’t rib him for it.

Instead he says, “I got lunch, and I think the masses might vote out anyone who doesn’t let them have a proper break for it.”

Louis peeks around Zayn’s legs to look. Zayn glances back too, to see Niall and Harry’s head’s close together, a plate of chips and a thermos in between them. With the sun peaking over the trees and elongating their shadows, it looks too storybook, the highlights in their hair too bright to be real, Niall’s laugh too bubbly.

Louis shakes his head like he’s thinking the same thing and then does his weird handless rise thing that makes Zayn admire his thighs yet again.

“They’ll be alright. They’re just getting a snack.” Louis says, messing with his socks. “Full game.”

“30 minute game,” Zayn offers.

“60 minutes,” Louis returns.

“30 minutes.”

“45 minutes.” Louis’ turning steadily puce.

“30 minutes,” Zayn says, gentle, but firm.

Louis lets out an explosive sigh and slaps at Zayn’s face with one hand. “Fine, fucker,” he says and turns and yells at the forest towards the tree-lake, “Liam! Game whistle blows in 2 minutes, be done with your woody-type things!”

Zayn pinches Louis’ side and then tracks back to Harry and Niall. “30 minute game,” he says, reaching around them for the water.

“Oh thank god,” they chorus.

“Like, I love Lou, but,” Niall shakes his head.

“Same,” Harry says. They’re both still eating the chips. Zayn refrains from reminding them it’ll have to sit in their stomach for the 30 minutes they’re still playing.

Liam trips up beside Zayn just as he’s setting back down the water. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zayn smiles. “Got all the fire stuff sorted?”

Liam rolls his eyes upward, laughing a bit, “Yeah, yeah. Just thought we might wanna stay a bit.”

Zayn tugs at his belt loop. “S’good, Li. We probably will.”

Liam crinkles at him.

“I am waiting!” Louis shouts from behind them. There’s a sound of a football hitting a knee and then the ground heavily.

Niall bounces off the log at once, already in his gear. The rest of them stay behind and struggle with boots and guards. Or at least, Harry and Zayn struggle. Liam sort of speeds through it all and then waits patiently beside them while Louis and Niall run drills. Eventually Harry looks up and Zayn and Zayn looks down at Harry and they know they can’t delay any more.

They play.

It’s not too bad, Zayn thinks. Him and Louis against Liam, Niall and Harry. Somewhat evenly matched, if just because he and Harry don’t care, Liam and Niall do care and Louis cares a lot.

It’s a bit fun, sending the ball up the line for Louis to nail into goal, or dropping back to goal to get to punt it over. The sun plays down on them, turning them all sweaty and silly. Niall does awful weird somersaults across the grass and Harry’s pirouetting. Liam’s stuck in between laughing and trying to keep up with Louis. Zayn stays back in goal.

He’s keeping time, technically, but Niall’s keeping score so he waits until Niall gestures they’re all even before nudging Harry to whistle game end. Ze’s beside him on the ground and he takes the opportunity to pull out some grass to drop on zir face and hair. Harry looks up at him, blinking.

“Lunch, if you can manage to walk,” Zayn says, dropping some more grass.

“If I can’t, you’ll just carry me,” Harry says, making a grass angel.

“Nah, got a bad back, don’t I?” Zayn drops the last of the grass on Harry’s face and then turns to where Niall’s sat on the grass, ball in his lap like he’s claimed it for himself. Liam’s in front of him, stripping off his gear. Over by the logs, Louis’ doing something with the blankets, still revved from the match.

“Lunch?” Zayn asks, needlessly.

“Lunch,” Niall agrees, firmly. He lifts up the ball over his head and makes a roaring sound. There’s no one quite like Niall.

Zayn giggles and reaches his arms down, gestures Niall up. Niall’s eye glint and he drops the ball down to the ground, jumping up. Grinning, Zayn piggybacks him to the blankets.

“Betrayal!” Harry yells behind them.

Niall laughs at zir.

Eventually, they all get settled in. Louis still a little miffed, so he claims Niall’s lap as his chair. Niall just rubs his back with one hand and eats tacos with the other, looking unbothered. Harry and Liam are making some sort of weird fish taco mix, talking about the benefits of fish oils. Ridiculous.

Back to the big log, Zayn eats chips by the handful. The wind has picked up a little and it’s nice against his neck. Leaving aside the tacky, sort of gritty feeling of post-sweat, it’s really nice. Zayn slumps down and shuffles a bit over to the center of the blankets.

One by one, they all join him, sticky fingers pressed against his arms and playful kisses deposited wherever is closest.

“This is a circus,” Louis mumbles at one point.

Niall starts singing Britney Spears and they have to smother him.

They stretch out on the blankets, all of them touching somewhere. Zayn’s got an arm around Harry and a hand laced with Liam’s and Niall’s half in his lap and it’s gotta be Louis’ bony ankles in between his. Everything is hazy and easy and just the right temperature.

Zayn can’t be blamed for floating a bit. Everything goes elongated and wispy, Harry and the lads like warm floating stars around him. The backs of his eyelids are dark and safe.

He comes to as Liam jostles his arm getting up.

“Mm?” He mumbles, feeling syrupy and distant.

Liam chuckles a bit. “S’fine, Z, just heading out to the lake for a few laps.”

“Mm.”

One of the stars moves away and everyone repositions a little grumpily. Zayn pats Harry’s shoulder a bit. His arm’s gone numb. Harry squirms against him. Ugh. Zayn draws his arm back, tingling all over.

“Gonna go, too, kay?” Harry says, nuzzling at Zayn’s temple.

“Kay,” Zayn grumbles. His arm starts tingling in waves.

Harry moves off, giggling a bit. The weight against his side repositions and a head tucks itself under his other arm. The hair’s a little wiry and pretty short. Niall. Zayn cuddles close and lets his arm wear itself out, hissing as he moves it every now and then.

There’s a chuckle behind him, before a hand rubs his arm viciously.

“Lou,” Zayn snaps, jerking.

“Shh. It’ll feel better,” Louis says, just as Zayn’s arm starts to fade into normal feeling. Zayn grumbles anyway. Niall squeezes his side.

He lays there for a bit, Louis breathing against the back of his neck and Niall mumbling things into his hip. Sleep’s far away though, the tide of it pulled back farther than Zayn wants to reach for. He sighs.

“Lake,” Niall says, like he’s reading the alertness in Zayn’s body. Probably is.

“Fine,” Zayn agrees. He’ll bring a towel, lie out on the shore and maybe catch his nap back.

Louis drums on his back and then gets up, cracking a few joints. Niall stumbles to his feet, too. Zayn opens his eyes to find them both holding out a hand to him. He sighs again at them, and then reaches up. They tug full bodied and he ends up nearly knocking his head into the both of them.

“Oi, c’mon,” Zayn says.

They laugh at him and turn around to start grabbing towels and clothes sets from the bags. Neither of them bothers with trunks. Skinny dipping all the way, then. Zayn changes out his vest and then grabs a few spare towels, following behind a jumping Niall and Louis.

The lake is surrounded by trees. An alcove of blue and green and a few corners of high perched rocks good for jumping platforms. Zayn likes the quiet of it, the way it feels like they can all be alone while still being together, here.

He rolls out a towel at a safe distance from the splashing Louis and Niall make as they enter. A big, worn soft loft next to the lake is piled high with everyone’s clothes. Zayn spots Harry’s scarf and smiles.

“Gonna join in?” Harry calls, psychic like that. Or maybe just waiting for him. It makes Zayn’s cheeks warm.

He wanders over to where Harry is along the far side of the shore from where Louis is getting tackled by Liam. Zayn sighs, looking down at the water’s edge. It’s not exactly pristine. He’ll have to shower again later.

“You can just do your hair,” Harry says knowingly, from the shallows.

Zayn looks at zir, standing completely unabashed, full on starkers. Zir hair has lost a few curls from the high bun ze’d tied it back with and the line of zir collar is sharp and glistening. The moth on zir stomach moves gently with every breath, like a steady beat of wings. There’s something about the line of zir back that’s lax and infinitely strong at the same time, waiting patiently for Zayn to make up his mind, unjudging one way or another.

Harry’s pretty impossible as far as humans goes. Zayn’s incredibly lucky.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I can.”

Harry smiles, just for him, reaches out a hand.

Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls his vest up to cover the flush on his cheeks.

Skinning dipping isn’t a big deal to Zayn, really. But, he thinks, the way Harry beckons him with soft, clinging arms and the quiet way the lads let the conversation float around them all, the way they all drift aimlessly and lax and lacking any discernible self-consciousness, would make him fine with it anyway. They’re the best, really.

Course, Niall chooses the moment when Zayn’s fighting with his trainers to start doing trust falls into the lake from the big overshooting rock, so maybe Zayn’ll have to redact that.

Harry, predictably, gets a glint in zir eyes. Zayn raises his eyebrows back, impassive.

Ze smiles, overly sweet and cajoles, “Niall’s doing them.”

“Niall would do trust falls with ghosts,” Zayn points out. Niall lets out a whoop as Liam catches him. There’s a distinct smacking sound.

Harry smiles like ze can’t help zirself. “I think it’s sweet. No one else trusts ghosts.”

“Ghosts wouldn’t catch you in a trust fall,” Zayn says, finishing with his unruly trainers finally.

Harry makes a plopping sound with zir hands on the surface of the water, impatient, knowing Zayn’s about to get in and ze will lose zir chance. “Don’t be mean to the ghosts, Zayn, what did they ever do to you?”

“Well, for one, they befriended you and now you won’t stop talking about them,” Zayn says, idly watching Liam go up on the trust fall rock and shake out his shoulders before turning around.

Zayn smiles softly as Niall and Louis carefully position themselves below the rock, serious to the bone. Harry turns to watch as Liam takes a visible breath and then falls backward, letting out a small sound. Niall and Louis are right there, arms pulling Liam up a second later. They shout congratulations over each other, filling the lake with bubbles and bursts of brightness Zayn wants to stop and take in his hands and rub his fingers over gently. He likes being a part of that, of this.

He sighs. “Alright, alright.”

“Yes!” Harry pops up, almost clear out of the water, then pauses. “You’re not just doing it for me though, right?”

Zayn smiles back at Harry as he picks his way across the shore to the rock. “Nah,” he says.

Harry grins back at him, splashing the water happily, starting to swim over to the bottom.

“Oooh, Malik,” Louis calls out, whistling, as the three of them notice Zayn climbing up the rock. It’s surprisingly dry and easy to get a handle on. Zayn leans over to give him the bird.

Niall cackles and there’s a few more splashes, followed by Harry saying “Mine,” and Louis muttering something about “-have him all day, honestly.” Zayn grins as he settles onto the top of the rock, leaning over the edge just to stick his tongue out at them. They all wave back, dramatically, Niall fake sobbing and Louis swooning.

Idiots. Zayn’s heart feels too big for his chest.

He turns back and straightens up. He takes a second to look down and make sure he’s not gonna trip off the edge and then looks back at the shoreline, wobbly and familiar in front of him. He breathes out for a second, feeling that borderline anxiety-adrenaline curl in his stomach. He knows they’ll catch them, he trusts them. It’s just he can’t swim and it’s high and there’s something to be said for trusting your life to four people who can’t even keep a regular game of footie going.

But, he thinks, curling his toes into the rock, there’s also something to be said for four people who wait on him to have brekkie and who know he can’t swim and don’t make fun of him for it, and check to make sure he’s okay doing this, every time.

Zayn digs his feet in solidly and pushes off backwards.

The fall passes in a split flash of green and strangled sound and then the water rushes in. It’s clamoring, a world of darkness and heavy liquid at every turn. He clenches his eyes and jaw shut and lets the hands grasping him pull him up and out.

He comes up gasping, Harry’s hair sticking to the back of his neck and the lads clapping and whooping over-enthusiastically in front of him.

Harry presses a kiss hard to the side of his head and holds him tight back against zir. Zayn gives the lads a, only slightly shaky, thumbsup. Louis quirks a smile at him and catches Zayn’s hand to give it a squeeze for a second. Zayn holds tight and doesn’t think about how deep they are or the steady waves that come from all of them kicking in the same spot.

“Way to go, Zayno,” Louis says, curling close, eyes lined with soft lines the way Zayn likes best.

Zayn nods back and squeezes his hand.

They all drift for a long while, moving bit by bit towards the more shallow end, as the sun disappears further and further behind the trees. Harry keeps up a steady stream of small kisses to Zayn’s head as they go. Eventually, Zayn relinquishes Louis’ hand in exchange for a hug that’s more of a cuddle. Pressed against Harry and him, the water feels downright friendly. He kicks it a little bit, relaxing enough in Harry’s hold that ze can move them gently towards the shore faster.

Louis moves off with one more squeeze to Zayn’s wrist and launches himself stealthily at Liam, dunking him completely. Liam comes up fast and pushes back at Louis until Niall, laughing so hard he can barely swim, gets in between them and demands to be carried back to shore.

Zayn nudges Harry’s side with his elbow, “Me too.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Harry giggles, tightening zir grip so ze can propel them forward easier.

The stumble onto shore is a little awkward, trying to avoid getting sand in delicate places and also not drowned or let go of Harry. They manage, giggling, a little loose and clingy.

The lads have already moved off to camp, probably started on dinner if Niall’s roars are anything to go by. Zayn grabs their towels off the log and dries them off steadily, Harry humming under his hands, really going for that cat impersonation. He bites at a very wayward curl of Harry’s as they sloppily pull on clothes, and manages to catch Harry’s ear when ze moves.

“Oops, soz.” Zayn says, laughing as Harry’s nose scrunches.

“S’fine. Liked it,” Harry says, voice still low like a residual hum.

Something burns low in Zayn’s chest, as he watches Harry eye him. They’re just off to the side of the lake more grassy and secluded than in front, but they’re still in full view if any of the lads came back to check on them. Harry raises zir eyebrows like a challenge and the thing in Zayn’s chest spills lower.

Then, Harry drops to zir knees and Zayn has to wince.

His gut argues with him even as his says, “You’ll hurt your knees, Haz.”

“Mm,” ze mumbles, mouthing at Zayn’s hip. It’s like his skin is feeling everything times 10 wherever Harry’s touches. “Worth it.”

Zayn grits his teeth and pulls away, “Not when you get splinters or summat in your knees, it’s not. C’mon, hands.” He tugs at Harry.

Ze grumbles and stumbles up after a second. “Would’ve been worth it.”

Zayn ignores zir. He brushes off the leaves and dirt stuck to Harry’s kneecaps with Harry’s headscarf. Harry laces zir fingers with Zayn’s, after, squeezes. “Handies?” ze asks.

“Handies,” Zayn agrees, squeezing back, pulling them close together, “If you can keep standing.”

Harry bites down on his shoulder, hard. Zayn hisses even as the pain flushes wonderfully down his body.

“I can.” Harry says, working zir way up the side of Zayn’s trapezius and neck, biting sharp and sucking hard.

“Okay,” Zayn says, breathing too much.

“Can you?” Harry asks against his skin.

“Okay,” Zayn says because he’s not sure but he wants to try and also he wants to feel Harry’s smile.

He gets both, as Harry grins and begins trailing zir hand down Zayn’s chest, leaving shivers in zir wake. Ze snaps the waistline of his briefs and Zayn presses his mouth against Harry’s shoulder to muffle himself. He pushes clumsily at Harry’s pants, getting a hand on zir just as Harry finally touches him.

Again, Zayn admires Harry’s hands. Talented, lovely, so clever. He gasps compliments into zir skin, presses kisses like punctuation in between. Zayn slides his fingers up and Harry groans back.

They move like that, a shaky back and forth of kisses and curses and fingers pressing without even taking off their clothes. It’s so hot. It’s overwhelming, like their forming their own sun in the space between them, flames licking in their stomachs.

Judging from the sweat along Harry’s temples, ze agrees. He stations himself at the corner of zir jaw, bites down hard and lingers with his tongue.

“Shit,” ze whispers, abs clenching against Zayn’s arm.

“You close, babe?” Zayn asks, twisting his hand, moving a little faster.

“ _Fuck_ ,” ze says, emphatic, entire body clenching against the new rhythm, hand stuttering. Zayn’s hips jerk forward against his will and he presses his free hand harder into Harry’s waist. Harry’s grip goes tighter in response.

It cycles, Harry’s responses kicking Zayn’s responses, both of them getting off on getting each other off. Zayn scratches his nails across Harry’s hip, getting a hiss and Harry’s mouth moving up to Zayn’s ear as a reward. Harry sucks at Zayn’s ear lobe and it threatens to melt all his bones, let alone his knees.

“Fuck, Haz,” Zayn says, clenching his jaw and moving against Harry even harder.

Everything is slick and borderline gross but it’s so real and sharp and Zayn loves all the little hitches in Harry’s breath and the tells in Harry’s body when Zayn moves just right.

He grips Harry’s hip hard, tips zir hips up just a bit more, gets his hand at a better angle to move and _there_. Harry’s voice cracks as ze cries out. Zayn presses kisses to zir cheek, meets zir lips sloppily for a second before breaking away, out of breath with the way Harry’s hand works at him.

“C’mon, babe, I got you,” Zayn whispers, looking down to watch the way Harry’s muscles jump. Harry’s gasping, shaking against Zayn wherever they touch, which is doing really compelling things to where Harry’s got a hand on him. But, Zayn wants Harry first. Wants Harry lax and smiling and close.

He presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s cheek just as he digs into zir hip with his nails. Harry’s breath goes and ze gasps, “Oh my g –“ before going completely tense.

There’s something about feeling someone orgasm, the way they clutch at him, the way they’re trusting him to not make fun of their strange noises, or the way their foot kicks out, that Zayn likes the best. He likes how Harry’s grip goes hard as Zayn keeps up the rhythm to work zir through it. He likes how Harry struggles to get back zir breath, and struggles to stop moving zir hips against Zayn’s hand.

He likes how Harry melts into Zayn in the afterglow, smug and lovely, whispers, “Thank you, love,” and kicks Zayn’s orgasm from him with a few exact pulls of zir wrist.

The world turns to an echoing roar and streams of color. It feels like falling, like flying, like being held in place by the weight of Harry’s hand and Harry’s kissed praises alone. Harry’s relentless, working him through it until it feels like he could scream, may already be screaming. It’s brilliant.  

“Mmm,” Zayn hums, after he manages to get a full breath and the world stops exploding, “Thank _you_.”

“Pleasure,” Harry whispers, kissing along the curve of his jaw.

They stand there, clutching each other, knees wobbly and hands and pants a mess. When they finally start cleaning up this time, they’re even more giggly, wiping themselves off and then dunking the towels in the lake and laying them out to dry. Zayn can barely move without Harry’s lips pressing somewhere. Which, is fair, considering Harry can barely move without Zayn needing to kiss some new part of zir.

Their usual fire pit is ablaze, sparks jumping happily over wood. Liam’s pulled all the logs into a neat triangle around it and all the blankets are draped and piled strategically for maximum cuddle. Zayn high fives Louis as they step over the logs. Louis grins, lascivious, makes a few choice gestures.

Harry sees and tugs on zir button-down primly. “You could have had your own fun break time if you wanted,” ze sniffs.

Louis flicks Harry, but gets a faraway look on his face for a second.

“Where’re your other two?” Zayn asks, fond and a little smug.

Louis snaps back to him, “Bringing me dinner, like the good boys they are,” then pauses and gets an even further away look on his face.

Zayn laughs and takes the water Harry’s holding out with a, “Thanks, babe.”

Harry flops down on a log. Zayn drinks for a bit, waiting for Louis to come back into focus. When he does, Zayn passes the bottle back to Harry with a pat and pulls Louis into a very, very slow slow-dance. Louis snorts and fixes Zayn’s hand placement.

“They’re lovely,” Zayn says, quiet.

Louis maneuvers them around a quilt pile and Zayn almost misses it when he mumbles, “They are.”

Zayn presses close and they manage almost a full go around the fire, with a vaguely humming Harry for soundtrack before Liam and Niall turn up, skipping.

“Laaaads,” Niall spins to a stop, holding a pile of plates and condiments, “And Harry,” he nods, deferential.

Harry nods back with a flourish, tangle of curls falling forward.

Liam’s come around the other side, balancing a large plate with about 3 layers of burgers.

“Holy shit, Li,” Zayn says, detangling from Louis.

“Well done, lad,” Louis coos, going over to kiss Liam’s shoulder.

Liam flushes and lifts up the tray like a defense against compliments, “Burgers, by me!”

“Oi!” Niall cuts in, from setting out plates.

“And Niall,” Liam amends, “Who convinced the caf staff I should be allowed to touch a grill.”

“With my supervision, yeah,” Niall says, grabbing about five of the burgers in one go.

Zayn says a firm thank you, as he grabs his two Normally, he’d be lackluster about sandwiches, but Liam’s got talent where burgers are concerned. Louis seems to agree, a pile of 3 of them in front of himself that Niall eyes like a school teacher with overzealous children.

Zayn laughs and settles down beside him. Niall grins at him, tongue in teeth. Harry curls up beside Zayn, sticking zir feet under the curve of Liam’s thighs, to which Liam just rolls his eyes and drops a hand around zir ankle.

It’s a bit of a quiet affair, all of them eating intently, making appreciative sounds. The fire crackles on as it gets darker and darker, the forest coming to life in that nocturnal whisper way trees are wont to do. Zayn plows through the two burgers, refrains from laughing at the look on Louis’ face when he can only get through half of his third.

“Stories or stars?” Niall asks, as he clears away plates.

“Hm.” If they do stories, things’ll get loud and rowdy. If they do stars, they’ll all just flop down and Niall will occasionally point out really cool things to them. Zayn looks down at Harry, finishing a bun with zir eyes closed, edges droopy. “Stars,” Zayn votes.

“Same,” Louis says, “Tell us something pretty,” handing Niall a pile of trash even as he kicks out at Niall’s ankles. Niall raises an eyebrow delicately and kicks back.

“Not if you keep doing that, I won’t,” Niall says, dropping everything into the big trash bag at the end of the far log.

“Pft!” Louis waves a hand.

“C’mon, babes,” Zayn says gently, pulling at Harry so they can move over and stretch out amidst a blanket pile. Liam’s rearranging a big pile like a squirrel, pulling and fluffing at the edges. Louis watches like he’s a second away from laughing hysterically, and two seconds away from snogging Liam’s face off.

Zayn scoffs and pulls Harry back against him. Ze mumbles a protest, shaking zir head a bit. Zayn rubs a hand across zir back, shushing zir.

Harry sighs and then sits straight up, knocking Zayn’s hand off. “What about smores?”

Niall looks over from settling in between Liam’s legs. “Oh.” He looks up at Liam, pleading.

Liam rolls his eyes, “Lou is still up, make him.”

Niall turns wide eyes on Louis, who’s got one hand on the ground to sit, already. They stare each other down, Harry adding occasional pleading sounds. Finally, Louis heaves a ginormous sigh and pushes back up. Niall claps happily.

Zayn hides a smile against Harry’s neck.

“I saw that, you cretin,” Louis says as he passes by.

“Aww shucks, bro,” Zayn simpers.

Louis glares back at him as he digs in the bags for the pokers and the supplies. He drops a set of bags on Harry’s head as he comes back, earning a happy “Thanks, Lou,” from zir. Louis hides his smile in his shoulder ineffectively.

“Thank you,” Niall sings when Louis drops the bags on his head. He tips his face up, waiting, and Louis makes a quiet sound before bending down and kissing him. Louis hand smoothes along Niall’s jaw like he can’t help himself. Zayn leans his chin on Harry’s shoulder and admires the picture they make, soft and intense against each other with Liam looking on like every puppy in the world just got dumped into his lap.

They all reshuffle a bit, finally, settling the logs more like supports so they can sit up and still reach the fire. The pile’s gone amber all over, smoke curling in between the stars whenever Zayn tips his head back to look. They’re bright, tonight, strong and winking down like familiar guardians.

Harry tucks zirself against Zayn’s side and stares into the fire, a strange glint in zir eyes.

“No pyrotechnics, Haz,” Zayn reminds, nudging zir ribs.

Harry smiles, sickly sweet, “Course, dear.”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Make your smore and eat it.”

Harry makes zir smore and eats it, smirking at Zayn enough chocolate drips down zir chin. Zayn sighs and rubs a thumb at it, licking it off just to watch Harry focus in on him. He smirks back.

A foot hits Zayn’s thigh.

“Ow,” he says, turning to look at the pile of liamlouisniall next to them.

“Ah, soz,” Liam says, in between giggles. He’s managed to get marshmallow all over his neck. Or, Zayn thinks, watching Niall and Louis pick it off, _someone_ has managed to get marshmallow on his neck. Harry chuckles beside him.

Zayn turns back to finish smushing his own smore, knowing his face is ridiculously fond.

Three smores later, he feels bloated and content to lie where he is forever. At Harry’s prodding, they shuffle back a bit though. Harry pushes at his stomach and he hisses, shifting zir over to curl against his side.

“Whimp,” Harry says, licking at his shoulder.

“Uh huh,” Zayn says, trapping their legs together.

Zayn tucks his nose down along Harry’s neck and breathes in the faint smell of strawberry, the lingering smell of fresh woods. Under the fire’s influence, zir hair has curled fluffy and tangle-soft. Zayn rubs his cheek along it and listens to the sounds of Niall murmuring something about Pleiades. Liam oohs just louder than the crackle of the fire.

Harry taps at Zayn’s hip. Zayn nearly groans. Here goes.

“What if –“ Harry says, grandiose.

“Harry, no. C’mon,” Zayn complains, drawing back a bit.

“What if!” Harry continues, “We were at Hogwarts. And we were both on the quidditch team and –“

“We’d be right here. We’d be right like this,” Zayn says, soft and sure.

Harry pauses for a second. Zayn watches the edge of zir face, lit a moving orange by the waves of the flames. He looks down at their hands locked together, the way they fit together like they’ve never done anything else.

“Every you, every me?” Harry asks, just as soft.

The night around them seems small in comparison to the feeling in his chest.

“Every oui.” Zayn says, to make Harry dimple, to say _yes_ , and _of course_ , and _please_ , in a way Harry’s fluent in.

Harry ducks to press a kiss to Zayn’s collar, toothy as ze smiles too wide. Zayn’s body goes warm like Harry’s stoked a fire right inside him, like ze’s relit the sun they made earlier. He breathes steadily, lingers in the feeling, squeezing Harry’s hand. It’s bigger than his body and he’s glad Harry’s here with him through it, feeling it, building it up strong and sturdy, breathing through it, too.

He kisses Harry for a moment, letting their lips press together, soft and sweet. He pulls back, nudging Harry’s nose with his.

“What about things one through three?” Harry asks, looking up at Zayn through zir eyelashes.

Zayn smiles and glances over at them.

They’re curled up similar to him and Harry, tucked back against the logs, with smore ingredient bags piled neatly next to them.

Louis’ in the middle, with a hand on Niall’s neck, who’s sunk down to drape his legs across both Louis’ and Liam’s lap. Liam’s got one arm behind Louis and Niall, and his hand on Niall’s bad knee slung over Louis’ thigh. Liam’s cheek is nearly pressed against Louis’ and they’re both curled down over Niall, looking irredeemably fond. Beaming back up at them, Niall gestures something like an explosion. Louis cackles and the other two laugh a beat behind.

Zayn doesn’t think an asteroid could separate them.

“Somehow, I think they’re right here too, love,” Zayn says, dropping his head onto Harry’s. It’s almost like a cushion.

The fire flickers high for a moment like it’s agreeing.

“Good,” Harry says, yawning into Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn rubs zir back and starts singing Temper Traps, just to get a smile. Harry obliges and hums along with him for a few lines.

“You gonna fall asleep?” Zayn tilts Harry a bit more and ze curls into his chest.

“You’ll carry me back,” Harry murmurs, curling a hand into Zayn’s shirt.

Zayn watches zir chest rise and fall, the wrinkle of zir nose as a curl blows across zir forehead. He brushes it aside, tucks it back behind Harry’s ear. Their breathing goes lax and in sync, Harry’s grip slowly loosening. Zayn curls his hand carefully around zir back, traces down the bumps of zir spine.

“Baby,” he says, checking.

Harry breathes steady, body soft and easy in Zayn’s arms.

“Yeah,” Zayn whispers finally, “I will.”  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Slowly invading all circles with no-conflict, overwhelmingly fluffy, sunshiney narratives tbh.
> 
> Also, I mean, probably don't wander around like this at summer camp? You could get eaten by bears? Alternatively, I know nothing about outside in general, let alone summer camps, so like don't_trust_me.mp3.


End file.
